


I Cannot Live Without You

by ThebanSacredBand



Series: What Is A Man Without His Shadow? [5]
Category: Alexander (2004), Alexander Trilogy - Mary Renault, Ancient History RPF, Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't copy to another site, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Major Character Injury, Near Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 07:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18686998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThebanSacredBand/pseuds/ThebanSacredBand
Summary: India was so much worse than Hephaistion had imagined.Hephaistion and the Mallian Campaign





	I Cannot Live Without You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baydreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baydreamer/gifts).



> As suggested by Baydreamer, who rightly pointed out that Hephaistion's take on the Mallian Camp would be very revealing about his character. I hadn't originally thought of it, and it's turned out differently to how I expected, but I think I like it anyway? Thanks so much for your idea!

India was so much worse than Hephaistion had imagined. It was too hot, and wet, and there were flies everywhere. Alexander’s men ( _their_ men) were dropping dead from some form of plague. They had fought against Porus’ elephants. Bucephalus had died – he had survived longer than one would expect a war horse, but it had still be a painful blow to Alexander. He was almost the only being other than Hephaistion that Alexander trusted implicitly.

When the men had mutinied at the Hyphasis, Hephaistion was secretly relieved. He was tired of war, it was not something he enjoyed or was even particularly good at. He simply wanted to return to one of the rich Persian cities, and lie in the same bed for night after night, and gorge himself of wine and fine foods. And also to cement himself as Alexander’s chosen successor, given that he still had no children. He and Alexander had been discussing his promotion to the Persian role of Vizier for a while. But they had to be back in the Persian heartland for it to be confirmed.

Of course, Hephaistion had not told Alexander how much he wanted to return, away from this terrible forest that the peoples of the Indus valley called home. He had acted equally affronted when the men mutinied. But while Alexander had raged, Hephaistion had not raged with him. Before he had always told Alexander that, as king, he could do whatever he wanted, and force the men to do as he bid. But this time, he had stayed quiet.

Perhaps Alexander had noticed this, and that was the reason he had decided to turn around. Hephaistion could not say for sure.

And so they had finally turned around. They were finally heading home.

And then the Malli had tried to resist.

Hephaistion was sent with a portion of the army to another part of the river, a way to catch any enemy attempting to run. He had been grateful, at the time. He was still in command, but it was unlikely that he would have to actually do very much fighting at all.

However, this meant he was four days away from Alexander.

A few days later, he found out all about the battle. It had started with someone telling him that a few soldiers from Craterus’ forces had come across to the camp with news. He had gone out to find them, only to see them murmuring in groups. These were not official messengers, then, but common soldiers with a story to tell. He approached. One of them noticed, and went pale, trying to duck away. The other’s noticed his movement. Soon the whole group of them were staring at him, wide-eyed. Terrified.

“Tell me.” No one made a move to speak. “I said _tell me_.” He shouted, trying not to let the panic seep into his voice. What could possibly have happened? (Only one thing could possibly have happened, considering how they were looking at him, but it wasn’t what they had come to say, it couldn’t be.)

“The king… the king is dead, my lord.”

Hephaistion did not know how he made it back to his tent, but he did somehow, for that was where he was the next time he could think. Not that thinking was quite the word for it. There was no higher functioning going on inside his mind. There was screaming, and crying, and so, so much pain.

Or maybe that was not inside him, but outside him too.

This was, it was simply not possible. Alexander, _his_ Alexander, could not possibly be dead. He was the son of a god, had been declared unconquerable by his priests. He was Alexander. He was not meant to die in this gods-forsaken place.

And Alexander was Hephaistion’s life. Not just in that he was the only reason that he had achieved this position, not even just in that all the others hated him, and would tear him apart now that Alexander was not there to protect him. No, Alexander was Hephaistion’s everything. Almost every thought he had, every action he took, revolved around the king. Without Alexander, Hephaistion was lost, directionless.

Somewhere in the middle of his sobbing he laughed bitterly. Had he not always said that Alexander needed him? And here he was, just the same. They were tangled together, had been since they were young. Tangled minds and tangled legs and tangled hearts.

 

He had no idea how long he had been there, sobbing, in the tent, before a new cry went up. It could have been minutes. It could have been days.

Someone burst into his tent without asking, and if he had been more that a broken man he would have had them killed for such an intrusion. Instead, he could barely lift his red-rimmed eyes from the floor.

“Commander, we’ve had news. The king…”

“Is dead, yes, I am aware.” Hephaistion’s voice sounded like it came from a man fifty years old.

“No, my lord! He is not, he was very almost dead, an arrow to the lung, but they say he will make a full recovery.” He sounded enthusiastic. Hephaistion scowled.

“This is not a fun game you can play.” He spat. “Get out, now, before I have your head. I still have some power now he’s g-gone…” His voice broke, a new wave of tears spilling down his face. He was surprised he had enough left inside him to cry.

“My lord…”

“Get out!” He tried to scream, but it was more of a whisper. Had he anything to hand, he would have thrown it. Perhaps it was best he had not. He probably would not have thrown it very far at all.

The soldier left. Hephaistion tried to remember his face, so he could punish him when (if) he had finished grieving. But all he could see in his mind was Alexander.

Alexander laughing at a stupid joke Hephaistion had made at someone’s (probably Cassander’s) expense. Alexander crying at news from his mother, burying his face in Hephaistion’s neck. Alexander, sleeping blissfully beside him the first night they had lain together. Alexander in triumph over the Greeks, the Tyrians, the Persians, the Bactrians, the Indians. Alexander Alexander Alexander.

 

“Hephaistion Amyntyros, get out of your gods-damned tent right now!” Craterus. He had always hated Hephaistion. He had probably come to kill him. And Hephaistion was too ill, now, to shout back.

“Hephaistion!” Craterus, ever impatient, just made his way into the tent when he didn’t get a response. His eyes widened as he saw the state that his fellow commander was in. Craterus tried to school his expression quickly, but there was still some form of sadness in the lines of his eyes. Probably pity.

Hephaistion had always hated pity, but he supposed it was the only expression he deserved right now. Alexander was gone, _gone_ , and he had taken all of Hephaistion’s strength with him.

“Hephaistion.” Craterus was no longer shouting now that he was closer. His voice still hurt Hephaistion’s head. “You need to get up and come down to the river. You need to see. It is Alexander.”

“Alexander is dead.” Hephaistion replied, his voice barely making a sound. Craterus frowned.

“I sent you a soldier to tell you he would live. Did he not reach you?” Hephaistion froze.

“Was it, was it not a joke? Alexander is alive? Alexander.” He pushed himself up to sitting, but even that made his arms shake. Craterus helped him to his feet, and supported him with an arm around his waist.

Slowly, he was half-carried down to the water’s edge. Hephaistion could feel the weight of everyone staring at him. Let them stare. His Alexander may be alive, and that was all he could focus on.

And they were at the water. And there were hundreds of other soldiers, all shouted and celebrating. And there, laid on a boat, thick bandages wrapped around his chest, was Alexander, slowly waving at the crowd.

Hephaistion’s legs buckled beneath, and had Craterus not still had hold of him, he would have fallen into the river and drowned. He started crying again, this time in happiness, in relief. Alexander was here. He was _alive_. Finally he felt like he could breathe again.

Craterus looked at him strangely.

“You know, I always thought you cared only for Alexander’s title, and that was the cause for your endless flattery. But now I see you also care for the man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hephaistion murmured, but whether Craterus even heard him, he was unsure. His voice was lost in the crowd of his own tears, and the yells and trumpets and celebrations of all those who knew that Alexander was the only one who could return them to civilisation alive.

 

(When Hephaistion and his troops finally caught up to Alexander’s – the first time they had seen each-other up close since the battle – they had both mostly recovered.

Hephaistion, having by now been briefed on the specifics of how Alexander got injured, shouted at him for a considerable length of time about safety and duty and “gods, Alexander, you haven’t even named your heir, what would have happened to your empire? What would have happened to me?”

Then he fell by Alexander’s side and held him close, crying one last time when he finally heard Alexander’s heartbeat.)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually know a considerable amount about the Mallian Campaign, so if I've made any major historical mistakes please let me know!  
> As ever I love this period of history, please leave a comment here or on [my tumblr](https://lesmiserabiliad.tumblr.com/) if you enjoyed/have any ideas/just want to rant at me about Alexander &co.


End file.
